


all of these stars will guide us home

by remuspolaris (risolyandiwys)



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risolyandiwys/pseuds/remuspolaris
Summary: in which misty returns from hell without her gift of resurgence and cordelia is the only one who can help her get it back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for nora. thanks for all your support, sunshine. i literally couldn’t have done this without you. <3

To say that Misty Day is tired would be nothing less than a glaring understatement. No, what she’s experiencing can only be exhaustion and it reaches deep down into her very bones, seeps into them and ensures no amount of rest can rid her of it.

She isn’t sure how long it’s been since she’d made a quiet departure from the house, but she’s long-since made herself comfortable on the steps of the front porch. She watches as the sun sets and the moon takes its place, along with stars that seem to be scattered throughout the night.

And then she begins to count.

It isn’t something Misty will ever succeed at, counting all of the stars in the night sky, although that is not her intention. The stars have always guided her and that is what she desires — a sense of direction as well as peace of mind. They calm the storm so often raging inside of her and soothe the ache in her heart, and provide a modicum of relief from the pressure she seems to always have bearing down on her shoulders. The stars and their meaning to her have been a permanent fixture in her life since she was young, still so naïve and unaware of the dangers of the world, when she could not possibly imagine any of the horrors that would one day be inflicted on her.

Even now, when every other aspect of her life — every part of who she is — has been fundamentally changed, she still looks to the stars for guidance and comfort and familiarity in a world she doesn’t recognize anymore. It seems to Misty as though her failure to return from Descensum had stripped her of everything she knew. The connection she had with mother nature had been severed and the light healing magic she possessed were absent upon her return.

The healing magic she has always been able to feel in her veins, could always call on to perform what most believe to be miracles — her gift of Resurgence is simply not there. It’s a truly absurd thought, she knows, but it is one that weighs heavily on her mind. Of course magic doesn’t just disappear, so she knows it has to be suppressed or dormant or — _something_ , but she can’t be sure. She isn’t completely certain of what happened to her; she only knows that she desperately craves what has been so cruelly taken from her and that she is afraid.

She is afraid of many things that she won’t admit out loud. She’s afraid of the possibility that she will have to resign herself to a life without the light magic that has always been part of her. She’s afraid of the deep-rooted discontent that will often overwhelm her, fill her with feelings of dread and make her feel sick to her stomach. She’s afraid that her existence in hell, that being swallowed whole and then spit out in a mess of broken pieces, was an eternity where she had been completely stripped of everything that made her who she was — and she is terrified that she will never be whole again.

Along with that fear comes another, a different kind of fear that plants its roots in her — made up of despair and shame — that all of her secrets and all of the feelings she has been keeping to herself for months will escape their confines on the tip of her tongue with no way to get past her clenched teeth and pursed lips. She knows it’s only a matter of time until it happens, but she has every intention of making everything that feels so wrong in her life right again before it does. The very last thing she needs is for Cordelia to become aware the Misty hasn't been entirely truthful with her, has purposely been withholding things from her and is so clearly struggling.

Cordelia the Supreme has many responsibilities — to Robichaux’s Academy as the headmistress, as a teacher and as a mentor — to the Coven and the council.

Cordelia the Friend — the Best Friend — will set every one of those responsibilities aside and do everything in her considerable power to find a way to make Misty light and whole again.

The one thing Misty will not allow herself to become is a burden — not to Cordelia or any of her sisters — and she knows that bringing light to her current predicament will make that an inevitability.

She is filled with a fierce determination to solve the problem on her own, and after weeks of research she’s finally stumbled across several books that all mention something called _Reawakening_. It will draw the light magic from where it sits deep inside of her, so far out of her reach. The act she will be required to perform is one that she’s intimately familiar with — bringing oneself to orgasm, though she will need to do so while reciting an incantation for the Reawakening to be successful.

Through reading from several different texts, Misty is sure she can complete it on her own. She will put herself back together again and find her way back to the person she used to be.

. . .

The ritual is simple:

First, the ritual will fully consume her — the pleasure she creates within herself as she recites the incantation will serve to ignite her mind, body and soul.

Second, her Light will rise to the surface at the height of her pleasure and the blood in her veins will begin to sing as the magic that has been suppressed in the depths of her soul is returned to her.

Finally Misty will be made whole again – all she is required to do is willingly submit to the ritual and what it demands of her without an ounce of hesitation.

. . .

The lights are off and the curtains are parted just so to allow a sliver of moonlight to fall across the floor at an angle. Candles are scattered on various surfaces and lit to allow the scent of lavender to fill the room. Her phone is on silent and shoved into the top drawer of her nightstand. Finally, there is Fleetwood Mac’s _Rumours_ and it’s playing softly from the record player sitting on her dresser.

For all intents and purposes, the mood is set. Misty settles down on her unmade bed and presses her head into her pillow, taking a moment to acknowledge her apprehension at what will soon be taking place. She holds it for a moment and then lets her worry go on an exhale, feels it leave her being as she starts to focus solely on herself. Becoming reacquainted with her body after existing solely as a fearful creature in the depths of hell had been a process. It had taken her weeks to grow comfortable touching herself and once she had, she moved on to learning what it was that brought her the most pleasure.

Now she knows that allowing her fingers to wrap around her throat to apply slight pressure makes it difficult to breathe, but ignores the flame of desire low in her gut. Cupping her breast and catching a nipple between her fingers in a firm pinch results in a gasp as she involuntarily arches into the touch. Rolling that same nipple between her thumb and finger while her other hand dances down her bare skin to find its home between her parted thighs cause the dark blonde curls there to grow damp.

It feels good, _so_ good, and it certainly brings her pleasure but she knows that her current actions alone won’t be near enough. It’ll require more of an effort from her in order to bridge the gap between where she is now and the orgasm she is so desperately chasing.

As her fingers graze the curve of her breast and goosebumps rise along the surrounding skin, Misty closes her eyes and the figure of a woman forms behind the closed lids. She breathes in and out slowly as she starts to make light circles around her clit, and lavender tickles her nose as she does so. She feels hair tickle her cheek and fingers grazing the curve of her jaw, and a thumb tugs at her bottom lip before it is caught in a heated kiss.

The incantation begins to fall from her lips even as her mouth is otherwise preoccupied. She surrenders to the kiss and the touch between her legs, to the fingers effortlessly sinking into her. She wants more, more, more — of the knowing touches, of the lips claiming her own over and over again, of the familiar eyes looking into her own, so warm and filled to the brim with affection and —

“ _Delia_ —”

The strangled exhalation replaces the recitation of the incantation as Misty removes her hands from herself and sits up, pulls her knees to her chest and rests her forehead against them. She wipes her fingers on the sheet beside her and then wraps her arms around her knees.

“ _Damn it._ ”

She stands, makes quick work of dressing herself and then sits on the edge of the bed. She reaches for the throw blanket at the foot of the bed and pulls it around herself, taking comfort in its warmth. It takes everything she has to focus on it, on taking deep breaths instead of the panic that’s beginning to claw its way out from her chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Cordelia,” Misty whispers, knowing full well that her apology will not be heard. Still, she apologizes — for seeing her when she touches herself so intimately, for needing to, and for getting so far with that image burned behind closed eyes and still not succeeding at what she’d set out to do.

Shame and guilt spiral together in her gut and twists into a knot, and Misty feels the weight of it settle there in the pit of her stomach. It’s beginning to overwhelm her.

Misty Day has spent an entire eternity in hell and it had been a cruel existence where everything was a vicious circle — death and resurrection of an innocent and its subsequent death and resurrection and it was never-ending forever and ever and ever — but in it there was Cordelia, filling the inside of the unmoving heart that could no longer beat but still sat on the left side of her chest and with her came the sweet, sweet sound of _follow my voice_ and _sequere lucem, venite ad me_ and the knowledge that it was impossible for her to find her way home.

Perhaps she isn't able to use her gift but she has been led from the depths of that hell and guided home to Cordelia (always to Cordelia). This should be enough, but she knows it isn’t. As much as it pains her to even consider it, Misty knows that it’s time to tell Cordelia about her predicament — her lack of light magic, the ritual — and the way she can only perform it is with Cordelia on her mind and behind her closed eyelids. And she knows that’s a selfish violation of their relationship, and she’s in the wrong for keeping it to herself for so long, but she knows now that she clearly can’t do this alone. She only hopes Cordelia can help her find another way to regain her healing magic.

. . .

“ _Two hundred forty-two, two hundred forty-three, two hundred forty-four_ …”

Misty counts under her breath.

She counts to maintain some semblance of sanity, to keep a tight grip on what little she has left.

She counts until the knot in her stomach, guilt and shame twisting so tightly together, begin to loosen and can breathe again.

She counts the stars until the number grows too high and is lost to her, and then she starts over.

She counts until the sound of the front door creaking open and shutting with a soft thud draws her attention from the stars above to Cordelia, who appears to be all bedhead and an over-sized shirt, a mug tucked between her hands. Misty vaguely notices the steam rising from the mug as Cordelia sits beside her, the porch swing rocking back and forth slightly as she does so. However, all Misty can see is Cordelia’s profile and she is utterly captivated as the moon hanging high in the night above them illuminates Cordelia, bathes her in moonlight.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” Misty wonders in a low voice. She slings an arm around Cordelia’s shoulders, gently pulls her in and brings her into the blanket she’d been using to keep warm. “Isn’t it a little late for you, Cords?”

“You’ve been calling out to me for a while,” Cordelia murmurs tiredly and leans into Misty’s side, her head lowering to rest on her shoulder. She tilts her head to nuzzle Misty’s neck, and she lets out a slow breath that fans out over her collarbone. “You’re really quite loud, my love. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Was I really?” Misty wonders if she sounds as surprised as she is, but decides against asking. Instead she says, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware I was doing that.”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. It’s perfectly fine. How long have you been out here?”

“Just a little while. I had a hard time falling asleep, so I decided to come out here and get some air. I thought maybe it’d help.”

“Is it because of anything in particular?”

“Sometimes I just feel restless and that room starts to feel a bit too small, so I come out here and count the stars. It helps me feel more at peace.”

“Is that why I sometimes find you out here when I come down to make our tea?”

“Some of the time, yeah. I normally try to make it before you wander downstairs so it can be ready when that’s the case.”

“You do that fairly often.”

“I suppose I do,” Misty says with a slight shrug. “I also just really like it when I have the chance to make you tea. Most of the time you’re the one who makes it for us, so when I do it you get this real cute, surprised smile on your face — kinda like the one you’ve got right now. I like it when I’m the one to make you smile like that.”

Cordelia hums in response, and Misty is delighted when she doesn’t bother trying to hide her pleased smile. Cordelia lifts the mug to her lips and takes a small sip before offering it to Misty, who accepts it with her free hand and a quiet thanks. She doesn’t immediately take a sip, though when she does there is the familiar taste of Lipton’s on her tongue. It warms her from the inside out, and she lowers the mug to rest on her upper thigh.

“Is everything alright, sweetheart?”

And the way Cordelia speaks is soft and so _loving_ that Misty nearly tells her everything, almost lets all of the thoughts in her head spill out of her mouth onto the ground in front of them. She wants Cordelia to _know_.

“Everything is just fine, darlin’,” Misty says instead, lips curving upward into a small smile as she strokes Cordelia’s shoulder with a thumb.

“Would you tell me if it wasn’t? If there was something that you’re struggling with?” Cordelia wonders quietly. She settles even further into Misty and reaches up to cover the hand on her shoulder with one of her own. “I just want to be here for you.”

Misty says nothing for several long moments. When she does speak, the words are not those that need to be said, “No, I don’t think I would.”

“Misty…”

“I’ve spent most of my adult life on my own, even before bein’ burned… making my troubles known wasn’t something I could do, and making ‘em known to someone who was asking about ‘em was only asking for trouble.”

“You’re not alone anymore, Misty.”

“I know. I have to remind myself of that every day. I’m trying, Cordelia, I promise.”

“Take your time. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here for you. Always.”

No more words follow, and Cordelia merely tangles her fingers through Misty’s and curls into her as they watch the sun finally begin its ascent and the stars fade to allow the start of a brand new day.

Misty is content in that moment and then, in the very next moment, is plucking at the material covering Cordelia’s shoulder. She narrows her eyes and frowns at the top of Cordelia’s head.

“Is this _mine_?”

“It is. It’s very comfy,” Cordelia responds, voice heavy with sleep. “What’re you going to do about it?”

“Absolutely nothing. I think you should keep it,” Misty answers after only a moment of consideration. She releases the shirt and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Cords, who knew you’d look so good in my shirt?”

Cordelia laughs softly and lets go of Misty’s hand, then curls further into her and slides her arm across her stomach to hold onto her loosely. Misty presses her lips to the crown of Cordelia’s head, and then Cordelia is slipping her hand beneath the cover of her shirt and upward to splay out against her skin, mere inches below her breast. And as a thumb strokes back and forth, she nearly purrs at the sensation. It’s then that she decides this would be enough — having Cordelia tucked into her as they sway gently back and forth on the porch swing, sharing tea as they watched the sunrise and Cordelia burning touch on her skin. If she loses her nerve and is unable to follow through with the conversation she plans to initiate with Cordelia, if she is unable to reawaken her Resurgence, she’ll be perfectly content to live out the rest of her days just like this.

It will be enough for her.

Cordelia will always be enough.

. . .

If there is one thing Misty prides herself on, it’s her ability to survive on her own. It has never been easy, and she imagines it won’t ever be — and she had nearly succumbed to death multiple times. She’s been burned and left to die, she has seen the light and had very nearly touched it before waking to agony and charred skin — she had cried as she crawled her way to the swamplands and submerged herself into the cool Louisiana mud, the entire time praying that the earth would protect her the way she had promised she would always do for it in exchange. Even now the unbearable pain from the flames still lick at her skin, a phantom that always manages to find her in dreams.

Fighting against every force in the world trying to keep her down made her strong and self-reliant and that won’t change anytime soon. However, as she stands before Cordelia, leaning against the doorframe of her office as she silently watches her work, admiring how she looks with glasses perched on her nose, she is certain of one thing — she might be more than capable of surviving on her own, but that isn’t something she wants to do, not anymore.

“Can you please sit down?” Cordelia says suddenly without so much as a glance upward, though Misty can see her lips quirk. “I’d rather you be in front of me and not hovering in my doorway.”

Misty laughs softly at the request and enters the room fully. She closes the door behind her and then moves to drop into one of the two chairs directly in front of Cordelia’s desk.

“Is this a bad time?” Misty wonders as she eyes the rather large stack of papers sitting a few inches from Cordelia’s right arm.

“When it comes to you, it’s never a bad time,” Cordelia answers as she finishes signing the paper she’s been filling out. She sets both the paper and the pen aside, and plucks the glasses from her nose to place them on the desk.

“I was just wonderin’ if I could talk to you?”

“Of course you can, sweetheart,” Cordelia answers, offering a warm smile as she does so. “What’s on your mind?”

“You asked me this morning if everything is alright, but I wasn’t bein’ honest with you when I said it was. I’m real sorry for that,” Misty starts as she begins to nervously twist a ring around her finger. “Before I started calling this place my home, I spent a very long time by myself. I learned how to fight and how to survive. I had to. I was alone, but that’s not how it is anymore. I’m _not_ alone, I have you.”

“Yes, you _do_ have me,” Cordelia returns and leans forward to rest her folded arms on her desk. “I’m happy you finally know that.”

“It’s always been easier for me to take care of myself. People have a way of messin’ things up without meaning to,” Misty says and props her elbow on the armrest of the chair. The side of her head comes to rest on her closed fist. “I think I’ve been the one doing that lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“My magic… my power of Resurgence is gone and the magic I still feel deep down inside of me is made of rot and decay and it makes my skin crawl,” Misty explains. She sighs heavily and drops her eyes to her lap in shame. “I tried to heal a plant the first night I came back, and several times since then. Each time I try, it turns to ash as soon as my magic touches it and I — Delia, I don’t know who I am anymore. I think I came back with all broken pieces of myself and one very important piece seems to be missing, I don’t know how to put myself back together again.”

“You’re not broken,” Cordelia says gently. The way she says it makes Misty look up at her once more and she sees nothing other than concern directed at her.

“I could hear that plant’s cries and I wanted to heal it. I reached into myself as far as I could, and I felt something so I grabbed onto it. I thought it was my light magic. It wasn’t. It was death.”

“Is this the first time that’s happened?”

“No, far from it. I don’t _just_ have the gift of resurgence. I can both give and take life. I found that out real quick when I was still learnin’ how to use the gift I was blessed with.”

“The laws of magic,” Cordelia says mostly to herself, “Whoever can give life must also take it.”

“I don’t want to take it. I want to _heal_ , not harm.”

“That goes both ways. You can’t do one without being able to do the other.”

“You’re saying that I still have healing magic since I was able to take that plant’s life,” Misty murmurs, shoulder rising and falling in a half-shrug. “It sure doesn’t feel like it’s there anymore.”

Cordelia regards Misty for several moments and then stands, rounds the desk to lean against it in front of where Misty sits. “You said it feels like your light magic isn’t there anymore. You may not be able to feel it, but I can. It’s still there, beneath the surface.”

“Why can’t _I_ feel it?”

“I can’t be certain. It could very well be suppressed — whether it’s psychological or from hell itself, I wouldn’t be able to say.”

“I’ve been doing research and I found a few texts that described a ritual of sorts that is intended to reawaken dormant magic.”

“ _Reawaken_ … where have I heard that before?” Cordelia’s mouth falls into a light frown as she thinks about it. Misty simply watches her until it appears to click. “You tried it, didn’t you?”

“I did. I was clearly not successful,” Misty grumbles as she looks away. She feels her face grow hot at the admission.

“It involves… self-pleasure, correct?” Cordelia asks and continues when Misty nods in confirmation. “What those particular texts don’t mention is that they require a partner — one with light magic themselves to draw it out from the other person, and recite the incantation if the other person isn’t able to.”

“Of course it does,” Misty responds dryly. She covers her face with her hand and releases a long sigh. “Well, at least now I know it wouldn’t have worked anyway.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I stared the ritual, but I didn’t finish it. I couldn’t, not that it would have made a difference. Apparently.”

“What happened?”

“I just…”

“I know that this — what that ritual calls for, I mean — can be difficult to talk about under normal circumstances. If you don’t want to continue this conversation now, we can do so when you’re more comfortable.”

Misty drags her hand down her face and stands from the chair, and then walks to the other side of the desk so she can look out of the window behind it. She folds her arms over her chest and then closes her eyes, considers taking the out Cordelia is giving her but pushes the thought out of her head before it can take hold.

“I’m tired of doing everything on my own. I want to let you in. And if I’m bein’ honest, I’m fucked if I do and fucked if I don’t.” Misty scoffs at herself, how ridiculous she is being. “I made sure that I knew the incantation so it wouldn’t be an issue. I just thought that this time would be different, and maybe this time when I closed my eyes I’d see a stranger. But it’s always the same when I touch myself, all I can ever see is—”

Panic wraps around her heart as it pounds heavily inside of her chest, grips it tight and makes it hard for her to breathe. She knows her chest is rising and falling too fast as she breathes erratically and she tries to slow down to just take a deep breath but she can’t and—

Gentle hands are prying her arms away from her chest and then Cordelia is grasping one of her hands, pressing their palms together as she interlocks their fingers.

“ _Breathe, my love. Deep breaths_.”

Misty releases a shuddering breath as she feels the soft touch of Cordelia’s fingers light against her cheek, and she opens her eyes as Cordelia cups her cheek fully. Misty can’t look anywhere other than those watching her carefully as she takes the deep breaths she was instructed to, slowly coming back to herself as she finds her anchor in Cordelia. She finds strength and peace in the fingers splayed against her cheek, in the thumb moving back and forth over her heated skin, and in the firm connection of their hands.

“It’s alright. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere,” Cordelia says softly. She brushes a few curls from Misty’s face, tucks them behind her ear and slides her hand to the nape of her neck. “There’s nothing that you could tell me that would make me think any less of you or turn you away. So whatever it is that you need to tell me — it’s okay. Whatever it is, we can work through it together.”

“It calls for total submission, y’know?” Misty finally tells her despite everything inside of her demanding she stop while she still can. “I have to willingly submit without any hesitation, but I can’t do that when I’m trying to reach a certain point and the only thing that helps get me there is seein’ you… imagining us together… doing things that seems selfish and a violation of our friendship to even think about.”

“Would you rather resign yourself to a life without the magic I can still clearly feel in you? A life of bringing only death to whatever you touch?”

“I’ve got my health and my tribe, and a home. I have you. I don’t need anything more than that to live a happy life.”

“Bullshit,” Cordelia remarks dryly. She releases her hold Misty’s hand and presses it flat against the other woman’s chest above her her heart sat. Misty prays she can’t feel how hard it beats for her. “You won’t be truly happy if you can’t use light magic, and you still have it. Pure, light, beautiful magic that comes from right here. It’s everywhere, always, calling out to me and you’re not even aware of it.”

“It calls out to you?”

“Don’t you remember what I told you this morning? You call out to me quite loudly sometimes,” Cordelia responds with a soft laugh. “Although, it feels more like you’re reaching out _for_ me. I _know_ that you need me, and you know I’ll do anything in my power to help you.”

“I do know that, but we both know that the only way for me to reawaken my magic - whether I can recite the incantation on my own or not - is by giving myself an orgasm. I can’t ask you to do this with me.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, if I asked, you’d say no.”

“You don’t know that.”

And Cordelia sounds so indignant that Misty nearly laughs at how ridiculous it is. The entire situation is absolute insanity, and she bites down hard on her bottom lip to prevent herself from saying so.

“It sounds like you _want_ me to ask you.”

“Who else would you ask? From what you’ve told me, I’m the only one that _can_ help you,” Cordelia asserts with a frown. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life. I trust you more than anyone.”

Cordelia lets the hand on Misty’s chest fall to her hip, and she squeezes lightly before sliding her arm around and up Misty’s back. She pulls Misty in, guides her head to her shoulder with the hand on her neck. Misty allows herself to be swept up by her, and slowly returns the hug.

“I think it would be best if I perform the reawakening with you,” Cordelia murmurs softly after several minutes. As Misty starts to stiffen at the words, Cordelia presses her lips to the junction of her neck and shoulder, brushes them along the underside of Misty’s jaw when she lifts her head from her shoulder. “Will you let me do this with you?”

Misty isn’t sure if her lips are meant to distract her or soothe her, but they’re accomplishing both at once. The stubborn streak she’s never quite been able to part with rears its ugly head for just a moment and Misty presses it down because it has no place here in this moment. This is what she needs, so she voices her consent. Cordelia smiles, presses her lips to the corner of her mouth and begins to withdraw slowly.

“Is tonight too soon?” Misty shakes her head _no_ and fingers briefly graze her lips. They fall open under the teasing touch and then Cordelia is leaning in to brush her lips against the shell of Misty’s ear, curving up into a smirk as she does so. Misty swallows hard when Cordelia’s next words come out as a purr, and a thrill of excitement runs through her as the words register. “It’ll be alright, sweetheart. I’m going to make sure that when the time comes for _you_ to come, there won’t be any hesitation on your part. I promise you, you’re going to _want_ it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the comments/kudos. you’re the best. truly.

The sun begins its slow descent and the pale blue of day slowly fades. The rays of the sun sets the clouds on fire in a violent explosion of color as the black of night prepares to take its place. The day is coming to a close and when the sun rises again, it will shine its light on a brand new day. Misty thinks that when the sun rises, she will be brand new, as well.

She’s been more reserved since her time in hell, softer, uncertain about so many things. Yet, she senses a shift in herself — she feels more confident, bold and more open in her desire for the woman offering herself solely to give Misty something she needs… and something she _craves_. She isn’t certain that Cordelia is aware of how deep her need runs — that is isn’t only her magic she wants, but also Cordelia herself.

As Misty stares up at Cordelia, she nearly purrs as fingers comb absentmindedly through her hair while she lay stretched along the couch. She has her head settled comfortably in Cordelia’s lap while she watches the other woman focus on the book she holds with her free hand, idly wonders if it’s at all interesting — judging by the latin writing on the front, she doesn’t think so, but the way Cordelia sometimes frowns and furrows her brow tells Misty it has her full attention. Misty sees her slightly protruding lip and wants to take it between her teeth and _tug_. She wants to know what sounds she can evoke from Cordelia with just her mouth.

It’s really not fair that Cordelia can lose herself in a book, has been distracted by it for as long as Misty has been lost to her own thoughts of herself and Cordelia. That’s all she’s been able to think about for _hours_. Cordelia’s hands on her, exploring her with a firm touch, encouraging Misty as she gives herself an orgasm. More than that, Misty thinks about what she desires most: an exchange of heated kisses and soft touches, Cordelia inside of her, and her mouth on Cordelia. She wants to build a home between Cordelia’s thighs, wants to call Cordelia her own and never have to leave. The occasional glances Cordelia casts her, the ghost of a smile of her face and a twinkle in her eye, gives Misty the impression that she must know what’s on her mind.

Anticipation makes her fidget with the rings on her fingers, causes her to huff and close her eyes. She tries to meditate, to clear her mind and drive out the distracting thoughts, and combat increasing arousal — and impatience, she thinks — with counted breathing as she redirects her thoughts. She tries to direct them to something — _anything_ — else, although she is left wondering how she can be expected to do so when she knows it’s only a matter of time until Cordelia will take her into the other room and she’ll finally know what it’s like to know Cordelia’s touch so intimately.

Will she be able to touch Cordelia, too? Misty hopes she is given the opportunity to do so, but she doesn’t know what to expect when they’re alone. She knows she just needs to wait it out, that she will find out soon enough, and in the meantime she needs to avoid picturing the two of them tangled together and to not let her desire for Cordelia consume her every thought and —

“ _Misty_.”

“Huh?” Misty opens her eyes and immediately notices the blush coloring Cordelia’s cheeks, the white-knuckled grip she has on her book. “What’s wrong?”

“Five minutes. I need _five minutes_ to finish this,” Cordelia manages through clenched teeth, “I need you to think about anything else for the next five minutes so I can do so. _Please_.”

_Oh_.

“Oh. You got it, Delia.”

Misty own face grows warm because of course she’s projecting, and _of course_ Cordelia is able to sense what she’s feeling. She’s certainly aware of Misty’s arousal, she _has_ to be — and, god, nothing’s even _happened_ yet. Misty finds herself wondering if Cordelia feels the same way she does, if she’s as eager for what they’re going to do. She _really_ hopes so.

“Nope,” Cordelia says suddenly and tosses her book carelessly onto the table beside the couch. Then she is ushering Misty up, off of her lap and then the couch. She pokes Misty square in the chest, eyes narrowing as she does so. “I asked for five minutes and you gave me _one._ ”

“Oops,” Misty says with a shrug, completely unapologetic, “Sorry.”

She _wants_ to feel guilty, but she simply can’t and smile Cordelia is suppressing tells her that she’s not truly upset. Misty grins, her cheeks dimpling as Cordelia rolls her eyes in response.

“You are _insufferable_ ,” Cordelia says, and now she’s smiling as well. Misty laughs softly and Cordelia does as well, and then she is reaching out for Misty, her fingers curling into the fabric covering her hips as she pulls her close. She tilts her head upward and Misty’s laughter fades as Cordelia’s nose brushes against her own. “Come with me?”

The words are spoken quietly, her breath hot against Misty’s parted lips, and all she can do is provide a whispered _yes_ as an answer. The next thing she knows, the two of them are standing in the middle of Cordelia’s bedroom. It’s cozy, Misty thinks, and so Cordelia — she finds warmth blossoming in her chest as Cordelia’s scent surrounds her.

“I thought maybe you would like to do this in here,” Cordelia says as she draws back to meet Misty’s curious gaze. Misty notices the slight tremble in her voice. “And maybe I’d like to indulge in being able to have you in my bed, just this once.”

“Maybe I’d like to be in your bed. Just this once,” Misty admits with a shy smile. “Cordelia…”

“Can I ki—”

Cordelia is unable to voice her question in its entirety — the words die in her throat because Misty suddenly cradles her face and tilts it upward, searches her eyes for a brief moment before she closes the space between them. Cordelia brings her hands up to Misty’s biceps, holds onto her upper arms as she responds without hesitation. Misty kisses her slowly, thoroughly and eventually deepens it. Cordelia whimpers and Misty slowly brings the kiss to an end, smiles against Cordelia’s lips.

“I hope that was alright,” Misty murmurs. She pecks Cordelia’s lips one last time before withdrawing, her eyes fluttering open.

“It was more than alright,” Cordelia reassures her.

“I’m glad,” Misty returns. She sighs and then says, “I have to be honest with you, Cords. I’m a little nervous about this.”

“It’s okay, my love,” Cordelia says gently, “Would you like it if I take the lead on this?”

Misty feels her nerves dissipate as breathes a sigh of relief and then whispers, “Yes, please.”

“I can do that,” Cordelia returns softly, “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to get the candles.”

Cordelia pulls away from Misty, who doesn’t quite know what to do with herself as Cordelia places candles around the room so they surround the bed. She sets out taller candles too, outside of the formation. When Cordelia lights them with the snap of her fingers, Misty catches the soft scent of lavender. She takes a deep breath and, as her level of comfort grows, begins to remove her bracelets and rings, sets them on the table beside the bed. The sound of her jewelry hitting the hard surface catches Cordelia’s attention and she turns, simply watches as Misty sits on the edge of the bed.

“Just how… involved are we going to get?” Misty asks shyly, fingers digging into the sheets on either side of her. “I know what this is supposed to be, but it feels like it’s so much more than that. It’s like I could drown in this, in _you_ , and I don’t know what that means for us.”

“ _Of course_ it’s more,” Cordelia responds as she comes to stand in front of Misty. “You mean more to me than anyone else.”

“It’s not… it’s not just me, right?” Misty questions as she looks up at her. Then, after a brief pause where she considers her next words, she asks,  “I’m not crazy for wanting this, am I? For wanting to be with you like this, regardless of this ritual?”

“You’re not crazy.”

Cordelia cradles Misty’s jaw and her thumbs move back and forth slowly, and then she is leaning down and kissing her. Misty reaches for her, hands coming to rest her on hips. She pulls Cordelia in and hums when the other woman nips at her bottom lip. Misty slides her hands up Cordelia’s back and then back down, where they remain in small of her back. She sighs into the kiss and Cordelia deepens it, and Misty’s toes curl involuntarily when she feels Cordelia’s tongue flicker against her own.

All too soon, however, the kiss comes to an end. Misty feels a twinge of disappointment that doesn’t last long as Cordelia kisses her again briefly. When she draws back, she bites her lip and runs a thumb over Misty’s kiss-swollen lips.

“It’s not just you. I wouldn’t have offered to do this for anyone else, but I want to do this for you. I want to do this _with_ you.”

“I want that too.”

“Good. Now, if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to get you out of these clothes.”

“So do it.”

As soon as Misty stands, she finds herself being turned around. She pulls her hair over her shoulder and shivers involuntarily as Cordelia’s fingers graze her neck, a brief touch before they slowly lower the zipper of her dress. The dress pools around her feet and Misty is bare save for her underwear as she steps out of it. She turns to face Cordelia, and her face grows warm when she hears the breathless _wow_ Cordelia utters at the sight of her.

“Can I…?” Misty reaches out to flick a button on Cordelia’s shirt, eyebrows rising in question. “Would that be alright?”

Cordelia nods as she answers, “Please do.”

Misty begins to undo the buttons of her shirt with trembling fingers. She doesn’t want to sever the connection she has with Cordelia, but she can’t ignore the impulse to glance down after several buttons are undone. The expanse of skin she uncovers makes her throb with want and she reaches up to brush her fingers over Cordelia’s exposed collarbones, then slowly trails them lower to graze the lace peeking from beneath the shirt. It takes a few moments for her to come back to herself, to this moment, but she drops her hands once she manages to do so.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Misty says. She clears her throat and looks down at her own hands as they make quick work of the remaining buttons. “You’re so beautiful, you know?”

“You can touch me.”

Misty takes a moment to search Cordelia’s eyes and then, seeing the silent encouragement in them, undoes the last button. She takes pleasure in Cordelia’s sigh as her shirt falls open and Misty’s hands come to rest flat against her stomach. She slides them upward to just below Cordelia’s breasts, and then drags them down to her hips. She squeezes once before moving to undo the button of her pants and then tugs them down. Cordelia steps out of them and kicks them to the side. Misty’s mouth goes dry at the sight of Cordelia.

“ _Jesus_.”

Arousal flares inside of Misty, and she pulls Cordelia into her, catches her mouth in a heated kiss as her hands find the small of her back beneath her shirt and hold her in place. Cordelia doesn’t object, simply loops her arms around Misty’s neck and kisses her back just as eagerly. All too soon, however, Misty breaks the kiss and buries her face in Cordelia’s neck. She releases a slow exhale as Cordelia’s fingers find her hair, while her other hand slips around her, gliding up her back to curl over the curve of her shoulder.

“You okay?” Cordelia asks. Misty nods against her in response. “Talk to me, baby.”

And _damn_ if that doesn’t make Misty’s heart skip a beat. She lifts her head and meets Cordelia’s eyes, a crooked smile on her face. “I’m alright. It’s just… a little bit overwhelming,” she answers. “I never imagined I’d get the chance to experience you like this, and it’s — well, I know this is a lot, and maybe more than I oughta be tellin’ you, but it’s all I’ve wanted since I met you. And I reckon there isn’t any part of me you don’t already have. All my pieces are broken and jagged, but they’re yours if you ever decide you want them.”

Cordelia sighs and reaches up to cup Misty’s cheek, stares at her with affection shining in her eyes. Misty leans into the her hand, covers it with her own and takes comfort in the soft touch.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes. Could you—” Misty pauses to clear her throat self-consciously. “Would you mind you talking me through this? What you have in mind, I mean.”

“I’m going to sit down against the headboard. You’ll sit against me, so you can use me for support,” Cordelia explains. Misty nods and watches as Cordelia draws away from her to pull down the blankets on her bed. When she turns back around, she takes Misty’s hands. “If there’s anything you’re not comfortable with or want to change, I want you to tell me.”

“I will.”

The shirt covering Cordelia fall’s off her shoulders with a quick tug and then she reaches behind her, unhooks her bra and lets it fall to the floor. She smiles coyly as Misty stares at her with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Misty can’t tear her eyes away, even as Cordelia crawls into the bed and beckons her forward with a finger.

“Come here, my love.”

Misty moves to the bed, sits between Cordelia’s legs and rests snugly against her. Cordelia’s breasts are pressed to her back, thighs cradling her hips, hands splayed just below her navel — and Misty’s head is spinning, her heart beating just a little too fast.

“Try to relax,” Cordelia murmurs. “It’s just me. It’s just you and me, baby.”

Again the name falls from her lips and Misty swoons, her hands finding Cordelia’s knees to anchor herself in the moment as her legs fall open so her thighs rest lightly against Cordelia’s.

“Is this really happening?”

“Oh, it’s happening, my love.” Cordelia presses a kiss against Misty’s shoulder and chuckles, smiles into Misty’s skin. “You’re beautiful. Always, but especially now, like this. In my arms. You’re magnificent.”

Misty’s breath catches as Cordelia covers the hand she has on her knee with her own, slides her fingers into the spaces between Misty’s and curls them. Cordelia’s mouth finds the junction of her neck and shoulder, and she hums as she nips at the skin there, soothes it with her tongue and lips.

“I was going to say the same about you. You’re so much more beautiful than anything I could ever dream up on my own,” Misty says. Cordelia nips at her again and then begins to suck, and Misty sighs as her eyes flutter shut. “That feels awful nice, darlin’.”

“You like that, huh?” Cordelia teases, although she sounds pleased at Misty’s response.

“Oh, yes.” Misty doesn’t know quite how to tell her she doesn’t like it, but rather that it sends a thrill of pleasure up her spine and stokes the flames of arousal burning low in her stomach.

“What else do you like?”

“I, uh, don’t have a lot of experience with this. Or any, really,” Misty says. She’s suddenly self-conscious even as Cordelia tries to soothe her with her touch, feels almost inadequate as she feels compelled to explain herself — unable to press the urge back down and simply let it be. “I was too busy tryin’ to figure out why I was different, and what all I could do. Tryin’ to fit in, but never really belonging. And then bein’ burned and finding out I could see the light, almost touch it and then come back to life was my top priority. Romance and intimacy... figuring out what I like or don’t like, all that’s never been a priority, or even a passing thought. This is… my first time bein’ like this with anyone, y’know?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Cordelia says softly. “Regardless of why we’re here, I’m going to make it an enjoyable experience for you.”

“You already have, Delia,” Misty says, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now tell me - you _have_ been learning what you like, haven’t you? You’ve been exploring yourself now that you’ve found your home and you feel safe?” Cordelia wonders. Misty nods in response. “Show me what you’ve learned about yourself.”

“Will you touch me?”

“Of course. I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“Touch me,” Misty demands. She pulls her hand from under Cordelia’s and then grasps it with her own, lifts it to her breast. Cordelia palms it and when Misty squeezes her hand, she begins to knead it as she does the same to her other breast. Misty’s hand falls away to once again hold onto Cordelia as she arches into the touch.

“Cordelia, _please_ ,” Misty pleads, though she doesn’t quite know what she’s asking for. She only knows she needs more of those hands on her, needs more of Cordelia.

“I’ve got you,” Cordelia says softly, a hint of teasing in her voice. She takes Misty’s nipples between her fingers, pinches and rolls, her touch gentle as she does so.

“Oh, _Jesus_ ,” Misty gasps and bites down hard on her bottom lip. She lets out a soft groan as the light touch becomes slightly firmer and, yeah, _this_ is what she’d been asking for. “This feels better than when I do it myself.”

“Good. I want to make you feel good.” Cordelia once again palms her breasts, simply holds them in her hands as she rests her chin on Misty’s shoulder. “Will you tell me what you think about? When you touch yourself, and you imagine it’s me touching you?”

“I can. Or I can show you?”

“Yes. Show me.”

Misty relaxes fully into Cordelia and closes her eyes, the images she’s tried so hard to rid herself of now on the surface. It’s easy for her to land on one of the many scenarios she’s imagined, to allow Cordelia into her mind and the fantasy that comes alive behind her closed eyelids.

There’s Cordelia above her, pinning her wrists down on each side of her head while she kisses Misty like her very life depends on it. Cordelia leaving open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat, over her collarbones and down to the curve of her breast. Cordelia’s cheek presses against her own, hot breath hitting her ear, fingers of one hand intertwined with Misty’s as the others sink fully into the heat between her legs. Cordelia kissing Misty, sucking her bottom lip between her own, their tongues sliding against each other’s. And Misty thinks that she’s never felt so full before and it’s something she wants to feel over and over again with Cordelia and she just wants Cordelia to feel it too and—

“Fuck,” Cordelia breathes as she comes back to herself, “Misty… I felt that. I actually _felt_ that.”

And Misty doesn’t know if that’s normal for her, if that’s what happens when she gets a glimpse of what lies inside a person’s mind. “Is that normal?”

“No,” Cordelia replies. She clears her throat and kisses Misty’s cheek before continuing, “I was just caught off-guard. I didn’t expect to feel all of that. But maybe I should have… that very first time, when you took my hand — I felt you burn and come alive again, and I felt how deeply you hurt in those moments and those that came after. I’d never felt such pain before in my life, or more connected to another person as I have to you since that moment, and I haven’t since.”

“I didn’t know. You never said anything…”

“You’ve always tried to appear strong, not wanting anyone to see just how deeply you were affected by the terrible things that have happened to you. Things were so _messy_ back then and I didn’t want to give you another reason to leave.”

“You welcomed me into your home and invited me to stay without any hesitation. You were hurting too, I could feel it, but you offered your friendship and taught me what it means to be the best possible version of myself. You became my tribe without me even knowing it. I wouldn’t have left. And when I did, it wasn’t intentional. I knew there was a chance I wouldn’t come back, but I wanted to. I wanted to stay with you.”

“I wanted that too, Misty. I tried so hard to keep you with me.”

Misty leans forward to catch Cordelia’s trembling lips with her own, holds her there for several moments and then slowly pulls away. As her eyes flutter open, she finds Cordelia’s already on her — so bright with affection.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking that I never want to lose you again,” Cordelia admits. “And to be honest, having your lips on mine when I can still feel how it is to be inside of you… I’m more than a little turned on.”

Oh.

_Oh._

“You are?”

“I am. You are too, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I want to watch you touch yourself. Will you do that for me?”

Misty merely whimpers in response to the request.

“I want to see your fingers inside of you, how you touch yourself when you’re thinking about me. I want to see your face when you come.”

“Jesus, Cords…”

“You’re going to make yourself come. You’re going to feel my hands on you, my fingers inside of you… you’re going to feel me _everywhere_. And when you come, I‘m going to be the reason for it.”

“This won’t change anything between us, will it?”

Cordelia hums and seems to consider the words as she slides her hands to rest just below Misty’s breasts, her fingers tapping lightly against her skin. And then, finally, she says, “You’re my best friend, and I love you. That’s not going to change.”

“Do you promise?”

“I do,” Cordelia says firmly.

“Delia…”

“Can I tell you something?” Cordelia asks, although she continues before Misty can respond, “I like knowing you think about me when you touch yourself. It might be all I’ve been thinking about since you told me.”

“Damn it, Cordelia.”

“Will you show me?”

Misty doesn’t know if it’s intentional or not, but she can hear the pleading undertones in her words and there’s no way Misty can possibly refuse the request — she wouldn’t, even if she could. So rather than answer verbally, she glides her fingers over her inner thigh to heighten the flames of arousal, and then slips them into her underwear. It’s brief, and when she pulls them out, she brings them up to brush over the back of Cordelia’s hand.

Misty can hardly comprehend what Cordelia does next even as it happens right before her eyes and she takes it all in — the way she holds Misty’s wrist in a loose grip and brings her hand up, takes her fingers into her mouth, how her tongue lazily swipes at the wetness coating them, and she briefly sucks before she directs Misty’s hand to where it was previously. Cordelia then releases her hold on Misty’s wrist and brings her hand back up to her breast, simply cups it for the time being.

“Nothing’s going to change, right?” Misty asks for the last time before she proceeds — she has no regrets and they’ve already crossed a few lines but once Cordelia witnesses in her most vulnerable moments, she knows there’s no turning back.

“I spent too much time without you and made too many failed attempts to descend into hell and bring you back with me to let anything take you away from me again. I knew you for such a short time, but I missed you _forever_ ,” Cordelia says softly, voice thick with emotion. “I can’t do that again. I know this is something you need to do, and I’m not going anywhere once it’s over. I’m always going to be here for you, my love, I promise.”

“I like it when you call me that,” Misty admits, because she doesn’t know what else to say. She doesn’t know how to respond to Cordelia’s admission, and Misty thinks maybe Cordelia picks up on that by the way she kisses her shoulder and rests her chin there.

“What else do you like, sweetheart?”

With two fingers spread in a ‘v’, Misty finally makes contact with her clit, lets out a sigh of pleasure as she slides her fingers up and down, up and down — the sensation of Cordelia wrapped around her only heightening the pleasure she’s creating within herself.

“I like that too — when you call me _sweetheart_. I _really_ like it when you tell me I’m doing something right. I like making you proud,” Misty says. “You get this sparkle in your eyes and this smile on your face, and I swear you look at me like I’m the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. And when you acknowledge the good I’ve done, there’s just something about your words and the sound of your voice that makes me so — god, it’s just so _exciting_.”

“And when I’m alone in my room, chasing after something I can only have when I’m thinkin’ about you, that’s what I see. Your smile and your eyes, and they’re so warm. Your mouth on mine and your fingers inside of me. And it’s you lookin’ at me like you’re captivated by me, like you’ve never seen anything so beautiful, and you whispering praises into my skin and I feel so full of you.”

Cordelia remains silent at her admission, but Misty doesn’t feel any concern at the lack of a response because Cordelia is slipping her hand into Misty’s underwear and simply covering her own as she continues to move her fingers.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Keep going,” Cordelia encourages. “I’ve never laid eyes on anything as beautiful as you. You’re so beautiful, always.”

Cordelia murmurs the words against the shell of Misty’s ear, and she shivers at the breath hitting her ear and the teeth scraping against her earlobe. Arches into the fingers on her nipple, flicking and pinching.

“When you get so excited you just have to high-five me, you give me a smile that takes my breath away. When we’re alone and you’re twirling to Fleetwood Mac and your shawl is flowing out around you, you look so content and watching you makes my heart feels so full,” Cordelia says softly, “I think you’re beautiful every morning when we watch the sunrise together, when the world is peaceful and we sit on the porch swing and drink tea, and your hair is a wild mess of curls. I think you’re beautiful when you’ve been tending to the plants and your hands are dirty and you’ve managed to get a streak of soil on your cheek, and—”

Cordelia grows quiet as Misty’s head falls back against her. Misty is panting as she slips her fingers inside of herself, begins to move them in and out in a slow, steady rhythm.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Cordelia murmurs softly, her hand sliding to Misty’s forearm. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“I’m — _god_ , Delia, I’m really wishin’ it was you touching me right now.”

“Misty, can I—” Cordelia pauses and then, “I want to watch. Can you turn around so I can?”

And this — this is a _lot_ already, will be so much more if she brings herself to orgasm with Cordelia watching her, but she does as requested without hesitation. She stands and removes her underwear and then allows Cordelia to pull her back into her lap, knees digging into the mattress on either side of Cordelia’s thighs. It’s dizzying being in Cordelia’s arms, she thinks, but it’s something else entirely with Cordelia looking her in the eye. Gaze unwavering as her hands settle at the small of her back, bottom lip between her teeth, everything in her expression giving Misty the impression that Cordelia wants to _devour_ her — and she’ll let her, once she has her magic. She’ll let Cordelia do whatever she wants.

“You seem to be enjoyin’ this an awful lot, darlin’,” Misty remarks as she slides her fingers into herself once more. A sigh falls from her lips and Cordelia catches them with her own.

“Maybe I am,” Cordelia returns, one shoulder rising and falling in a half-shrug. “Does that surprise you?”

“A little bit,” Misty answers with a soft groan.

“You’re so — you’re so _wet_ and it’s really because of me,” Cordelia murmurs as she glances down, sees the shine on Misty’s fingers. She sounds equal parts amazed and shy.

“Does that surprise you?”

“A little bit.”

“Just being here with you, like this, it’s more than enough for me,” Misty tells her, eyes sliding shut as she begins to rock against her fingers. “I haven’t been this close to an orgasm in a _very_ long time. It feels _so good_ , Cordelia.”

“You’re doing so good, my love,” Cordelia murmurs. “You’re going to come soon, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I sure do hope you like what you see when I do.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Cordelia,” Misty breathes out, “I need—”

She can’t articulate what she needs, can't even _think_ — can’t do anything when Cordelia is suddenly cradling her face in her hands, is pulling her down into a heated kiss. She’s kissing her so deeply, so thoroughly that Misty swears she can feel Cordelia in her very bones. Cordelia murmurs words of praise against her mouth, tells her that she’s beautiful, that she’s doing so good, that she loves her. And then she is kissing her again, and her tongue flicks playfully against Misty’s, and she has Cordelia’s magic inside of her, singing and thrumming in her veins and wrapping all around her and—

Misty suddenly grips Cordelia’s forearm, short nails digging into her skin, and Cordelia is breaking the kiss to whisper the incantation that Misty had all but forgotten about. Cordelia recites the words against her lips perfectly and then, suddenly, Misty is coming hard on her own fingers. She’s trembling as she withdraws, the tips of her fingers tingling.

“Misty…” Cordelia is staring at her in awe, eyes growing wet as Misty holds her hands between them — the soft glow of them lighting up their faces.

“My magic — I can feel it,” Misty says. A single tear slips down her cheek as she meets Cordelia’s eyes, watches as her own tears threaten to fall. “I feel whole, Cordelia. I’m whole again.”

Cordelia cradles the back of Misty’s head, slides her fingers into her hair and pulls her close. When her lips press against her left temple, Misty is overcome with the sensation of coming home.

“You told me that you love me. Did you mean it?” Misty kisses the damp skin of Cordelia’s shoulder, then draws back to meet her eyes. She sees the hesitation in her face, but she also sees the love shining in her eyes. “You _do_ love me.”

“You know I do,” Cordelia confirms quietly, “I’ve loved you _forever_.”

“I sure do love you, Cordelia,” she says earnestly, and, yeah, she knows. Cordelia’s always shown Misty how loved she is, her actions speaking volumes about her feelings even if she hasn’t said the words until now.

Misty brings a hand up to Cordelia’s face and cups her cheek. Cordelia covers Misty’s hand with her own and turns to kiss her palm, leaves her hand there as she brings her full attention back to Misty. After a moment of consideration, Misty leans down to kiss Cordelia, heart skipping a beat when Cordelia kisses her back immediately and brings her hands up to cradle Misty’s face. The touch is so soft, so gentle, and she’s overcome with the way Cordelia makes her feel. She sighs into the kiss, and as it grows deeper, she covers Cordelia’s hands with her own. Only when Misty pulls away does she realize that she’s completely at the mercy of Cordelia, who is brushing her thumbs across her lips and looking at her with eyes that have grown nearly black with emotion.

“Thank you for allowing me to experience this with you,” Cordelia says. “I know it’s difficult to be this vulnerable with someone, even with someone you love, but you trusted me with this and with you, and… I’m here for you, just as I always have been. I promise.”

Misty nods and, unable to respond audibly, kisses her one last time. It’s brief, but she pours everything she can into it. When it comes to a slow end, they shift to lie down and Misty curls into her, head resting on her chest. And it’s so much more than she thought it could be, being in the arms of the woman she loves, and she has to blink back the tears filling her eyes.

Some time later, Cordelia is drawing shapes on her back and placing an occasional kiss on the top of her head, and Misty is utterly content. She doesn’t know long they lie there together before Cordelia’s quiet voice cuts through the silence.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

Misty looks up at her, sees the way Cordelia’s chewing on her bottom lip as she waits for an answer. She props herself up on an elbow, dips down to kiss Cordelia. “I’ll stay with you every night, if that’s what you want,” she replies with a smile. “But first, I have a sudden craving for tea. Would you like some?”

Cordelia laughs softly and merely watches as Misty gets up from the bed. Misty grabs Cordelia’s robe from her dresser and ties the belt around her waist, and then tries to smooth her hair down with her fingers. She simply shrugs and gives up when it doesn’t help.

“I’ll come with you,” Cordelia finally says, “I need a snack.”

“Really, Cords?” Misty grins as she nods at what Cordelia slips on - the shirt that is clearly two sizes too big for her - and takes pleasure in the blush coloring her cheeks. “Just how many of my shirts have you stolen?”

“One or two…”

“I know I’ve said it before, but you look damn good in my shirt,” Misty tells her.

Cordelia closes the space between them, rests her hand at the base of Misty’s throat. Misty swallows hard at the touch, and Cordelia smirks. “I know I do,” she returns, “and I’ll look even better when you get me _out_ of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :)
> 
> part three will be up soon(ish)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it. enjoy.

Soft.

Cordelia’s lips are soft beneath her own and _very_ insistent as they claim her own over and over again. Misty doesn’t mind, not really. How could she — when Cordelia is sitting on the countertop and her legs are wrapped around Misty’s middle, her crossed ankles holding her in place — no, she _really_ doesn’t mind. It’s difficult for Misty to remember why they’re even in the kitchen with only a sliver of light from the still-open fridge to illuminate them. Everything outside of Cordelia, the fingers she has tangled in Misty’s hair, and the way she nips at Misty’s bottom lip, takes it into her mouth and then tugs as she pulls away — everything outside of this moment is irrelevant.

Well, it _should_ be, and Misty is damn near about to get on her knees and take Cordelia into her mouth right there as she sits perched on the kitchen counter, but there’s something —

It hits Misty square in the chest and she has no choice but to pull her mouth from Cordelia as all of her breath seems to leave her at once. The call is loud and desperate, a hook in her chest that demands her presence, although she is hesitant to remove herself from the space between Cordelia’s legs.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“I hear something callin’ me… I think it’s our belladonna,” Misty responds with a light frown. “I need to go to it.”

“C’mon. Let’s go.”

Misty extends a hand for Cordelia to hold onto as she slides off of the counter, and intertwines their fingers as they leave the room and approach the greenhouse — she closes the fridge as they go, and Misty suddenly remembers her intentions of making tea and finding something to snack on, remembers the way Cordelia had perched herself up on the counter and pulled her into a heated kiss that pushed all thoughts of everything else out of her mind.

The call — no, the _cry_ for help — grows exponentially the closer they get, and Misty uses a trembling hand to pull the door open. She steps inside, Cordelia still behind her, and allows the trickle of anxiety to guide her to the source. A potted plant sits on the worn surface of a table pressed against the back wall.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” she whispers as she approaches the wilted belladonna — the very one Cordelia had shown her upon her return, although it had been bright with color that night — and she’s having difficulty understanding how it could have deteriorated without her (or either one of them) noticing.

Misty squeezes Cordelia’s hand once before releasing her hold on it. Cordelia offers a supportive smile as she stands before the plant, no longer able to ignore the need to perpetuate healing — to coax the belladonna into a thriving existence.

“I’m here.” Misty raises her hands to hover above the leaves as she soothes it in hushed tones. “It’s alright… I’m going to help you.”

Fear splinters in her chest, makes it grow tight as she gazes down at the nearly lifeless belladonna — it looks as though it will fall apart if she were to lay a single finger on it — and that same fear nearly causes her knees to buckle out from under her. It isn’t her own fear, she knows. All life fears death in its own way, regardless of the form it comes in — it’s knowledge that she had been horrified to learn when she had first encountered the stench of death and rot and nearly succumbed to the debilitating emotions that accompany it. The manifestation of her powers had given her a connection to nature and its creatures — to life itself — and when she learned that she could drive out death with her own two hands, could expel rot with her light, she made a promise to nurture life and not take it.

Tears begin to slide down her cheeks as she looks down at the plant Cordelia had shown her — the night she came back and they had stood so close together that their arms brushed and the soft lavender Cordelia always wore made Misty lightheaded and the smile on her face was radiant as she presented the belladonna to her as a gift.

The very tips of Misty’s fingers begin to tingle and without a single thought, she holds her hands steady where they still hover a few inches from the belladonna and lets the magic she feels in her hands flow into it. The last thing she sees before she closes her eyes is the plant and she whispers to it as she feels the connection with the plant grow and —

The connection is suddenly severed and Misty’s eyes open, and the belladonna is turning to dust as she watches in horror.

“No. _No, no, no_ —”

Icy fingers quality around her heart and close around it, the hold that fear has on her growing tighter as understanding dawns on her. The way she’d wielded her own magic was thoughtless, she should have taken a moment to sense that it was the darkness in her that rose to the surface and settled in her fingertips and the palms of her hands — not the light. The grip on her heart disappears as suddenly as it arrived, and it’s replaced by white-hot anger flaring in her chest for a brief moment.

“ _Misty_.” Misty deflates at Cordelia’s firm tone, then turns her head to look at her. Cordelia continues, now gentle, “You can do this. Stronger intent.”

Misty nods and then turns her attention to the dust and soil. Again she raises her hands and focuses — _stronger intent_ — and once her hands glow with a soft light, she brings them to the soil and digs her fingers of one hand into it. She allows her eyes to slide shut, exhales slowly as she takes the dust on top of the soil into a closed fist. Lifts it a few inches and then loosens her fist so the dust falls back down to the soil — only it swirls upward and all of the dust comes together, and Misty opens her eyes and watches in awe as the plant recreates itself in front of her eyes.

“Holy shit,” she murmurs, tears filling her eyes as the remaining dust settles and strong, green leaves take its place. “Oh, aren’t you _beautiful_.”

Misty doesn’t bother trying to wipe the tears that escape the corners of her eyes. Instead she turns toward Cordelia and sweeps her up into her arms, twirls her once in her excitement. As she sets Cordelia down, she laughs softly through the tears.

“I did it. I really have my magic.”

“You did, and I couldn’t be happier for you — or more proud of you, my love.” Cordelia smiles at her warmly and reaches up to cradle her face, wipes her tears with her thumbs.

“ _Oh_.” Misty sighs at Cordelia’s hands on her face, the undercurrent of magic in her touch. It sends a thrill of excitement through her, and she reaches out for it with her own. Arousal burns low in her gut and Cordelia’s magic strokes hers, twists around it pulls her in completely. “Lord, you must be tryin’ to kill me, darlin’,” she says with a low chuckle. “What a way to go.”

“Misty?” Cordelia hums, tilts her head to brush her lips over Misty’s. “I think it’s time to make a fantasy of yours a reality.”

. . .

“Sequere lucem, venite ad me.”

This might not be the best time to voice the thought — when she has Cordelia naked and pressed against her bedroom door, needy as she arches into Misty’s admittedly tentative touch — but it’s been weighing on her for some time now.

Cordelia stops and draws back to stare at Misty, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What did you just say?”

Misty sighs and removes her hands from Cordelia as she repeats: “Sequere lucem, venite ad me.” The uncertainty is clear in her voice, she can hear it, but she knows there’s nothing she can do about it now. “Bein’ in hell… reliving the same few seconds over and over again, it was an endless cycle of life and death. And you — I don’t know what the words mean, but I knew it was you. I wasn’t lookin’ for a way out, I knew there wasn’t one — but I held onto those words. Hell was cold as ice, but the warmth that filled me when your voice washed over me…”

“Follow the light, come to me.”

“You were calling me home,” Misty breathes, and her chest tightens with panic — it’s irrational, but she’s helpless to fight it off. “You were calling me home, and I couldn’t get to you.”

“Misty… don’t go back there. Look at me, _come back to me_ ,” Cordelia reaches out to cradle Misty’s face, doesn’t allow her to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “You’re here, with me. You’re _home_.”

“I’m home,” Misty murmurs and blinks away the tears, along with the residual fear of being lost with no chance of finding her way home. “I’ve loved you for an eternity. And you — you love me.”

“I _do_ love you, so very much,” Cordelia confirms, lips curving up into a smile and — god, she’s radiant and Misty wants to kiss the smile right off of her.

So she does.

She pulls Cordelia into a deep kiss, takes her bottom lip between her own and finally tugs the way she’s been wanting to. And when Cordelia sighs into the kiss, Misty smiles against her mouth.

“Take me to bed,” Cordelia demands.

“Oh, I plan to,” Misty says with a grin, cheeks dimpling. Before Cordelia can do or say anything more, Misty is lifting her up, hands on her ass. Cordelia wraps her legs around Misty and kisses her, whimpers as her hands find Misty’s biceps.

Cordelia gasps, runs her hands up and down her arms. She bites her lip and squeezes slightly, releases a soft groan as Misty presses her back against the door. “ _Christ_.”

“Just Misty is fine, darlin’,” Misty drawls. Cordelia pulls her in for another heated kiss, fingers digging into Misty’s biceps. Misty turns around and blindly walks the few feet to the bed, sets Cordelia down on it and leans over her.

“Smart ass,” Cordelia remarks with a smirk. She moves further onto the bed and pulls Misty to her. Misty crawls onto the bed and props herself up beside her, splays her hand out against Cordelia, just between her breasts.

“How are you real?” Misty wonders, sucks her bottom lip between her teeth for just a moment. She drags her fingers down, nails leaving light scratches and a trail of goosebumps on Cordelia's skin. Cordelia arches into her touch, and Misty stares at her unabashed, runs her tongue over her bottom lip as her eyes fall on her breasts. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, please do.”

That’s all the encouragement Misty needs to reach out and palm Cordelia’s breast, to simply enjoy the feel of it in her hand before she dips down to take a pebbled nipple into her mouth. Cordelia hums and brings a hand up, fingers getting lost in Misty’s hair. Misty flicks and sucks, and then the fingers in her hair are coaxing her upward with a gentle tug. Misty gazes down at her, meets Cordelia’s smile with her own, and it nearly makes Misty’s heart beat right out of her chest — the understanding that every part of her belongs to Cordelia and, by some miracle, she is wanted by Cordelia.

“You know, you have a habit of bringing me home and making me whole again,” Misty says quietly. “Me, with all my broken pieces.”

“I’ll make you whole,” Cordelia reassures her, “I’ll do anything for you, just as long as you continue to come home to me.”

“Will you love me?”

“Always.”

“That’s all I need from you. Will you let me love you?”

“Mist…”

“Will you let me love you — right here, right now?”

“I wish you would.”

Cordelia gasps as Misty suddenly straddles her, takes her hands and intertwines their fingers as she pins them to the mattress just above her head.

“I’ll always come home to you. I swear it.”

Misty dips down to brush her lips along the curve of Cordelia's jaw, pressing feather-light kisses as she does, down to the column of her throat. She nips at her skin, soothes the sting with her lips and tongue, and then repeats the action. Cordelia whimpers, although she doesn’t let up until Cordelia squeezes her hands. Misty sits up and releases her hold on Cordelia, drags her hands down her front to settle beneath her breasts. She bites her lip as she takes in the sight before her — Cordelia, with messy hair and kiss-swollen lips, eyes dark with desire, and the mark she had left on Cordelia. She moves off of Cordelia to once again lay beside her, holds herself up on a bent elbow as as she reaches for Cordelia’s breast. Uses her thumb to to flick it, and Cordelia arches into the touch.

“Y’know, it’s really not fair. You put your hands all over me, touched me while I touched myself. I was hopin’ you’d let me do the same for you — touch you and make you come.”

“You can do whatever you want,” Cordelia tells her. “I’m yours. Do what you’d like with me.”

“What would _you_ like?” Misty questions as she leans down, and her lips graze the curve of Cordelia’s breast. “My fingers or my mouth?”

“Oh, my god,” Cordelia groans softly. Misty grins at the response. “Your mouth. I want your mouth on me, baby.”

“As you wish.”

Misty takes Cordelia’s nipple into her mouth once more, uses her tongue to evoke a whimper from the woman beneath her, and then drags her tongue from the underside of her breast to her nipple. She nibbles then gently sucks, and Cordelia buries her fingers in her hair and _tugs_ and — god, Misty doesn’t expect to whimper at the move, or how wet it makes her. Cordelia is panting and Misty briefly notes the way she bends a knee lets it fall slightly to the side.

When Cordelia slides a hand between them, she wants to look but she is being held firmly in place. not that it matters, she thinks, because she understands what Cordelia is doing — as she rolls her hips and she arches up into Misty, as panting becomes soft moans, as the grip on her hair tightens. Only when Cordelia stills beneath her for several moments, then sinks down with a noisy exhale, does her grip on Misty loosen.

“C’mere,” Cordelia murmurs and, once Misty is hovering over her, she brings her fingertips to brush over Misty’s lips. “Want a taste?”

Misty meets Cordelia’s eyes, lets her mouth fall open as Cordelia’s curls up into a smirk. Misty takes Cordelia's fingers into her mouth, wraps her lips around them and sucks off the wetness coating them. Misty hums in delight, licks her lips when Cordelia withdraws her fingers. Laughs softly and nuzzles Cordelia’s cheek, kisses the heated skin and lingers there.

“I thought I’d been stripped of everything that made me who I was, and that I’d never be that person again. I thought that I’d remain this version of myself that’s more reserved and quiet, more willing to settle, and not very brave. I lost sight of who I was, and I never imagined finding my way back to myself. I never…” Misty blinks away the tears suddenly threatening to fall, closes her eyes as she breathes in Cordelia, lets herself be comforted by soft lavender. “It was all still here. It was inside of me, just waiting for me to be brave and let you in — to let your love in.”

Cordelia reaches up to cradle her face, thumbs brushing away the tears escaping from the corners of her eyes. She draws Misty in gently, places a lingering kiss on her trembling lips.

“I never imagined you’d love me, after all this time,” Misty whispers.

“I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you. How could I not?” Cordelia returns, voice thick with emotion. “You took my hand in both of yours, and I caught a glimpse of your very soul. I felt your pain, your fear. I saw who you are at your core, and I’ve never known anyone as beautiful or as _good_ as you are.”

And as Cordelia falls silent, Misty sighs at the tendrils of magic curling around her, intertwining with her own. Cordelia and her magic, she decides, feels a lot like coming home. It beckons her, fills her with warmth and causes the very tips of her fingers to tingle.

“Is this — I mean, is this a Supreme thing?” Misty asks as her body responds to Cordelia’s magic. “It’s like I could simply reach out and touch your magic… I didn’t know it was possible.”

“No, it’s _you_ ,” Cordelia responds with a warm smile. “This is what I’ve felt ever since you came home to me. Your magic, always around me, unwavering.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come to you. Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I sure do love you, Cordelia,” Misty tells her. Then, as those tendrils of magic twist with her own, and desire flares deep within her, “And I’m going to love having my mouth on you.”

Cordelia merely spreads her legs for Misty to kneel between, watches her do so with her lip caught in her teeth.

“I don’t know if I can count how many times I’ve imagined being here, with you — or how many times I’ve found myself lost in a daydream where I’m on my knees before you—” Misty brings her fingers down to the inside of Cordelia’s thighs, drags her fingernails nearly to her knees before sliding them back up. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted that and now — I’m on my knees _for_ you, and I’m going to worship you.”

Misty wants to tell Cordelia how her heart beats for her, how every atom of her being is drawn to her, demands she worship Cordelia and leave muted words of prayer along the inside of her thighs in total surrender.

“Mist…” Cordelia breathes out when Misty settles between her legs, one hand coming to rest on her lower stomach as the other spread her open. “Oh, _fuck_ —”

The words get stuck in her throat as Misty lowers her head and her tongue swipes over slick skin, from her opening to her clit. She doesn’t linger, rather explores and slowly memorizes the feel of Cordelia against her mouth. She lets Cordelia’s reactions guide her, learns that she likes a firm touch in certain places — fingertips pressing into her thighs as strong hands hold her in place — and prefers a more gentle, soft touch in others — hands intertwined, tongue lazily lapping at her, over the side of her clit in light strokes. What Cordelia likes most, Misty learns, is being filled by her — fingers moving in and out of her, curling them the way she’s shown by the other woman, tongue on her clit and fingers curved, fingertips pressing down and —

Cordelia moans and the words that fall from her mouth are incoherent, and then she grows rigid beneath Misty, grunts once as she comes, tight around Misty’s fingers.

“Fuck me,” Cordelia says, laughs low in her throat at she slings an arm over her face. Misty withdraws and rests her head on Cordelia’s thigh, is utterly content as she watches Cordelia’s chest rise and fall as she tries to catch her breath.

“I just did,” Misty quips, turns her head to playfully sink her teeth into Cordelia’s thigh. Cordelia starts at that and weakly paws at Misty who rises above her, places a kiss on the tip of her nose, and then lies beside her. Misty tucks an arm beneath her head, glances at Cordelia out of the corner of her eye. “Did a damn good job of it too, I reckon.”

“You certainly look pleased with yourself.” Cordelia curls into her, head coming to rest on Misty’s chest as she slings an arm over her middle. She lightly pinches Misty’s side, chuckles when she squirms. “You should be — pleased, that is. I’ve never had an orgasm like that, not _once_ in my years of being married.”

“Oh, I am pleased,” Misty confirms, then says, “Really? Not even once?”

“It’s one thing being with someone you care about. It’s something else completely different when you’re intimate with someone who loves you as completely as you love them, who seems to know you better than you know yourself, who you’re connected to so deeply, you’re not quite sure where you end and they begin. It’s so much more with you than it was with — than it was before.”

“It’s like… drownin’ in a sea of love,” Misty murmurs.

Cordelia shifts and props herself up, stares down at Misty in amusement. “Where everyone would love to drown?” Misty meets her eyes with a grin, and Cordelia traces the dimple in her cheek with her fingertips. “You’re beautiful,” she says softly.

“You know, at the risk of soundin’ like a sappy old love song… I’ve been waitin’ for you my whole life. You’ve had my heart from that very first moment till now, and every beautiful, heartbreaking moment in-between. You’ll always have it. You’ll always have all of _me_ , Cordelia.”

“Promise?”

“I swear it.”

“You’re mine.”

“Yes, darlin’. I’m yours, always.”

“And I’m yours.” Cordelia traces Misty’s lips with her fingertips, trails them down her throat. They dance over her collarbones and Misty inhales sharply as Cordelia’s fingers graze the underside of her breast. “You know, there’s something that you want—” Cordelia cups her breast, thumb flicking her nipple, and then pinches it lightly with her thumb and finger. “I want to give it to you. Can I do that?”

Misty can’t quite comprehend what she means, can hardly understand her words, but she nods in agreement. Cordelia chuckles and releases her hold on Misty’s breast, and her fingers glide along her damp skin, stomach quivering beneath her touch. Cordelia shifts to drape herself over Misty, propped up on a bent elbow with her front pressing fully against Misty’s side. Misty spreads her legs, silently encouraging her to venture where she _needs_ Cordelia.

“ _Please_ , Cordelia, touch me,” Misty rasps — begs, really, without a hint of shame — and so Cordelia does.

“Oh, you’re ready for me, aren’t you?” Cordelia murmurs, fingers dipping into her.

Misty gasps and manages to hiss out a _yes_ and then Cordelia sinks into her. Cordelia covers Misty as she touches her, brushes her lips across her throat, to the junction of her neck and shoulder, and back again. She kisses the underside of her jaw, lingers on her cheek and then kisses Misty fully.

“Oh, Lord,” Misty sighs into the kiss, reaches for more of Cordelia.

“I’m right here, my love,” Cordelia says softly. Misty’s hands find her back, slide upward and grip her shoulders. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

“Delia—” But the words don’t come out, because Cordelia is curling her fingers and her thumb is on her clit, and Misty is burning from the inside out. She burns white-hot low in her gut — and god, if this is what it is to burn, if it means being consumed by Cordelia rather than the flames of hell she’s already so familiar with, she wants to burn forever and ever—

Misty is arching beneath Cordelia, burying her face in her neck as she comes with a low groan. She shudders and pants against Cordelia as she comes back to herself, and suddenly reaches down to keep Cordelia where she is.

“Can you leave ‘em there, just for now?” Misty requests shyly. “I’m so _full_ of you, Cordelia. It feels _so_ good,” she breathes out, “It’s almost like I was made for you.”

“Maybe you were,” Cordelia murmurs thoughtfully as she nuzzles Misty’s neck and shoulder, drops kisses against the expanse of skin, warm beneath her lips. “Maybe we were always meant to find each other. Maybe we were always meant for each other. Maybe I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

“You’re everything I’ve always wanted, and never thought I could have. All the forces in this universe have been tryin’ to keep us apart, but they won’t. I’d walk willingly into the depths of hell and let it devour me whole, let it strip away all of the things that make me who I am a thousand times over if it means I can always find my way here to this very moment, where I’m home and _so_ loved by you.”

“Oh, Misty…”

Cordelia slowly pulls out of her, and this time Misty doesn’t object. She merely sighs in content as arms slip around her and pull her in to Cordelia. Both her magic and Cordelia’s crash into her, wash over her as it has been all night — and, yeah, this is a sea she would love to drown in.

Although she starts to succumb to exhaustion, Misty looks to the window in her line of sight, seeks out the stars through the partially open curtains and whispers a quiet _thank you_.

“Are you alright, my love?”

“I’m just fine, darlin’.” Misty squeezes Cordelia’s hand three times and tries to convey what she feels with every beat of her heart ( _iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou)._ “Just thanking my lucky stars for guiding me to you.”

The stars will _always_ guide her home to Cordelia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and for all the support <3
> 
> find me on tumblr @ remuspolaris

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> part two will be up soon :)


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